Small Things
by Claggart
Summary: Drabble. Harry falls asleep during a late night detention with Severus.


**Small Things**

It was the small things, really. How his hair curled at the ends ever so slightly – as if he'd just been wrapping it around his fingers. There was always a bit of dirt on his hands. A little smudge of brown under a bitten nail, or a trace of mud in the veins on his palm. Funny that he would have dirt on his hands even though quidditch was played in the air.

He would chalk it up to the living, breathing idiosyncrasy that was Potter.

Gently, he let his hand lower until it rested lightly on the mop of unruly black hair. The boy stirred, but didn't wake. His head was resting at an uncomfortable angle on the wooden desk. One beautiful, perfect hand rested limply by his cheek. There was a light impression of scars that had healed – letters that must have had some significance if they had been carved into such perfect flesh. His quill had rolled just out of his reach, leaking ink that had long sense dried. Severus stared at the spilled ink with an unreadable look on his face. The color was almost the same as that of Harry's dark fringe.

His long, graceful fingers flexed ever so slightly, burrowing deeper into the sleeping boy's hair. Harry stirred again, a twitch really, but slumbered on peacefully. Severus waited till he stilled, then began to pet the boy with the greatest tenderness imaginable. His locks were like black silk, shining with the iridescence of a raven's wing.

For a long time, they were posed like that, both motionless but for Severus's gentle petting. His dark eyes were lit with something dark and heated. The boy slept obliviously, surrendered to the mesmerizing world of dreams.

"Potter?" Severus's voice finally broke the silence.

"…Wha?" the boy responded unintelligently, rising so abruptly and so disoriented that he almost didn't notice the hand that had retreated from his hair. _Almost_.

"You fell asleep. Have you not been sleeping properly?" Severus asked, concern evident in his deep voice. Harry embarrassedly wiped at a little bit of drool on his chin. His eyes found the ruined report and his entire body sagged in a way that was almost comical.

"I suppose I haven't," Harry finally replied, reaching out to inspect the damage done to his report more thoroughly. Severus discreetly glanced at his pocket watch. It was near one in the morning.

"You will be no good in a battle if you are ready to drop from lack of sleep," Severus said brusquely. Harry didn't reply. He merely stared at the report with a resigned look of weariness on his face.

"I suppose I'll need to redo this?" Harry asked despondently. Severus glanced sharply at the report, irritated that Harry was so distracted by it. He snatched it from him, crumbled it harshly, and tossed it into the waste bin nearby.

"It will not be necessary. I sincerely doubt that the potions community will suffer from the loss of your report."

"No, I don't suppose they will," Harry replied with a small smile – the first he'd shown all night.

"Well, come on then. You may sleep in my quarters tonight."

The smile widened, and Harry stood. The top of his messy head only reached Severus's chest. "I can't ensure that you will sleep properly otherwise," Severus hastily added. He didn't want to crush the fresh hope in Harry's eyes, but that was just what he did.

"You mean, to ensure I'll be ready for war, right?" His tone was harsh with lack of sleep, his eyes were lit with resentment, anger, hurt…

Severus hesitated. He had promised himself he would wait till the boy was older. Really, he couldn't know what he wanted at such a young age. Severus knew how isolated he'd felt as a boy in school because of his sexual orientation. Harry merely wanted him because there was no one else he knew that shared his persuasion.

Still, he'd already invited him to his quarters to sleep, hadn't he? Could he really deny such a beautiful creature anything he asked of him? He knew it had been wrong to extend the hand of friendship to the silently suffering boy. Severus had recognized all the signs – identity issues, mood swings, an unpredictable temper, his isolation from his best friends. These were all signs of a boy coming to terms with the fact that he was a homosexual in an unfriendly world.

"No, Harry, not so you are ready for Albus's insufferable war. So that you can keep me warm tonight," he replied softly. In for a penny, in for a pound. Harry's eyes lit up beautifully, and it warmed Severus's heart.

His eyes, his little smiles, his messy hair, even his habit of drooling when he slept – all of it had become irresistibly attractive to the potions master. As he walked to his quarters, the boy following silently, Harry's hand reached forward and lightly grasped his own. It was all of the small things, Severus realized, that made him love the boy so very much.

**A/N: **Yet another bit of fluff I wrote when I was supposed to be working on _Colt_. Sigh. Actually, this isn't just a distraction. I've invented a machine that spits out gummie bears, flowers, and bubbles. It's delightfully amusing. Unfortunately, it runs on pointless, fluffy drabbles such as this one. So you see, I must make juice for the happy gummie bubble machine.


End file.
